


Hell's Bells

by Dean_hugs_Sammy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Episode: s12e15 Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell, Gen, Hellhounds, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 08:29:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10460373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dean_hugs_Sammy/pseuds/Dean_hugs_Sammy
Summary: Alternative version of 12x15 – “Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell”. What if the Winchesters had been hunting down a different hellhound? One that they’d both had history with?





	

“I hope Crowley was right when he said the bitch was out here somewhere.” Dean said as the car came to a stop in the outskirts of the forest where the young couple had been attacked by the hellhound.

Putting the car into neutral and turning the keys in the ignition, Dean cut off the characteristic rumble of the engine. He then shot his brother a quick glance to see Sam nod his head in agreement.

“He better be keeping that girl safe while we chase down the hellhound too.” Sam added as he grabbed the handle of the passenger door and swung it open. “He isn’t exactly our most trustworthy ally.”

“Well, that’s an understatement.” Dean snorted, getting outside himself and shutting the door behind him as he moved towards the rear of the car.

Opening up the trunk and the secret compartment underneath, Dean quickly scanned the contents and silently praised himself for keeping everything so neat and organized in there. He then grabbed a leather holster, spread it out in front of him and pulled out the two spectacles inside of it; hellhound glasses scorched in holy fire from their last encounter with one of the hounds.

Back then, Sam had been the one to kill the beast – to Dean’s big dismay. Not only had that been the start of the trials for Sam (which had originally been for Dean to take on while Sam was supposed to stay safe), but Dean had also felt like he’d had a score to settle with these overgrown dogs. It was no secret Dean resented hellhounds. His hatred towards the beasts didn’t just come from the fact that the hounds were vicious, invisible creatures who ripped their preys to shreds in order to drag their souls to hell. No, it was more the fact that Dean himself had been on the receiving end of their razor-sharp claws – had felt them rip into his flesh and tear his chest wide open while his little brother had been forced to watch it happen. So, when the sheriff had mentioned that the victims, on their newest case, had been attacked by an invisible wolf, Dean’s heart had immediately sunk. They were dealing with a hellhound. No doubts about it. This time it wasn’t just about settling a score for Dean though. It was downright personal.

“Right after God said ‘let there be light’, he made a bunch of things; posies, koalas, hellhounds.” Crowley had explained to them earlier in the day. “He wanted the Creator’s best friend, but the hounds were too vicious so he planned on having them all put down - until along came our favorite fallen angel. He rescued one of the hounds; a pregnant bitch named Ramsey.”

“Why don’t you just tell her to yield?” Dean had asked.

“I can’t control her, no one can. She’s only loyal to Lucifer. Besides, she’s not the one who got loose.” Crowley revealed. “Ramsey’s first litter consisted of six puppies. The first puppy born, the cruelest one of the bunch, was named Hector. Lucifer gave him to the first demon he ever created. To Lilith.”

“So, you’re saying that…” Sam started when Crowley cut him off.

“Yes, the hellhound,” Crowley confirmed and had sent Dean a pointed look. “is the one that came to collect Squirrel’s soul by the end of his deal.”

Dean still felt more than a little shaken up about that piece of information. He’d tried to play it cool though - had acted all indifferent as if it didn’t affect him at all that the hellhound, they were chasing, was the same one that had killed him nine years ago. However, Dean knew that he probably hadn’t fooled Sam with his nonchalant attitude – especially since he’d been quiet and tense on the short drive to the forest. Hell, even Sam had been uncharacteristically quiet and seemingly lost in thought since Crowley’s revelation. Truth to be told, Dean was more anxious about this hunt than he cared to admit, but he was dead set on getting his revenge on the hellhound this time.

“Here.” Dean said, handing Sam one of the hellhound glasses.

“Thanks.” Sam said as he accepted the offered item - then hesitated for a moment before asking; “So um… You okay?”

“Yeah Sam, I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.” Dean answered with a little more heat than he’d intended.

Avoiding eye-contact with his brother to spare himself from the exasperation he’d probably see there, Dean bent over the trunk once more to grab a couple of angel blades. Beside him, Sam shuffled his feet and turned the glasses over a couple of times in his hands. It was obvious that he wasn’t done talking yet, and Dean braced himself as Sam opened his mouth once more.

“It’s just… I get it, man. This can’t be easy for you.” Sam continued in a soft tone. “Believe me, I know that feeling. And if it wasn’t bad enough that the hellhound already killed you once, the fact that it’s apparently out to get you again… well, that sucks.”

Dean closed the trunk of the Impala and absent-mindedly rubbed a hand back and forth on his chest where the hellhound had ripped into his flesh all those years ago. It was true Crowley had said that the hellhound held a grudge on people; it had gone after the girl because she’d hit it with an axe, and it was most likely to go after Dean as well because of their history. It was like unfinished business to it. Crowley had also mentioned that the first litter, as well as their mother, Ramsey, was uncontrollable to him, so Dean and Sam were on their own on this one. Dean was secretly feeling kind of happy about it – he needed to be the one to kill this hellhound. Not Crowley, not Sam, but him. Dean felt like he owed that to his past self; to make sure that no one else would ever experience the terror and pain this hellhound had made him feel.

“Look, I admit this whole thing has left me a bit on edge.” Dean acknowledged, finally meeting his brother’s soulful eyes. “But you gotta promise me something, Sam. No matter what happens out here today, you gotta let me kill it.”

“Dean, come on.” Sam protested. “You can’t make me promise that.”

“I mean it, man. I was the one who got killed by it, and I’m the one it’s after now.” Dean said and softened his voice. “I need to be the one to do this, Sammy. Please.”

Sam hesitated a moment and then sighed heavily.

“Fine.” Sam gave in. “But I’m not gonna sit back and just watch if that thing’s about to bite your head off! I’ve tried that once already. I’m not doing it again.”

“You won’t have to. Not this time.” Dean promised.

The brothers stared at each other for a few moments, until Sam eventually nodded and looked away. Dean let out a relieved sigh. Now that he knew his brother would stand down and let Dean take the lead on this one, he was feeling even more determined to kill this hellhound and end its rampage once and for all.

Wearing each their pair of hellhound glasses, and with an angel blade in hand, the brothers began searching the forest for any signs of the infamous hellhound. The daylight soon faded into dusk, and Dean followed Sam’s example of bringing out a flashlight. He turned it on and chuckled a bit when the beam shortly blinded his brother – making Sam yelp and shield his eyes from the bright light.

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed with a glare.

Dean just grinned at the bitch face Sam shot him. Even with the tenseness of the hunt, there was something comforting about the familiar banter with his brother and the fact that he knew, no matter what happened, Sam would have his back.

Dean was about to make a comment about how Sam wearing glasses reflected his nerdy personality, when Sam suddenly grabbed Dean’s arm – halting both Dean’s comment and his steps at the same time.

“What?” Dean asked in a low voice, expecting the hellhound to jump out and attack them any second.

“Over there.” Sam answered, nodding to his left where the beam of his flashlight lit up what looked like the outline of a body.

Exchanging a look, the brothers silently moved towards it, and as they got closer to the figure, it became clear to them that it was the body of a young man. The corpse was mangled and bloody – huge claw marks evident all over the poor fellow.

“I think we found Gwen’s boyfriend.” Dean said with a grim look as he crouched down in front of the body.

“Looks like the hellhound dragged him to its den.” Sam added in a voice that shook a little – a thing that didn’t go unnoticed by his big brother.

Dean lifted his head and took in the sight of Sam’s face that had suddenly turned a few shades whiter. He’d been so focused on his own emotional state about the hellhound that he hadn’t thought about how this hunt would affect his brother. This couldn’t be easy for Sam either. The last time they’d met this hellhound, it had killed Dean right in front of him and dragged the older brother’s soul to hell. Looking at the torn, young man on the ground in front of him, had to bring back some nasty memories for Sam from nine years ago.

Noticing Dean looking at him, Sam cleared his throat and quickly covered up the vulnerable expression that had been on his face only seconds before. Dean wanted to call his brother out on it and make sure he was okay, but he decided to let the matter go for now. Neither he nor Sam seemed to want to talk about their girly feelings right now and, besides, they had a hunt to focus on.

Tearing his eyes away from Sam, Dean concentrated on the beast’s unpretentious lair – letting the beam of his flashlight scan the place.

“Well, it’s empty.” Dean said. “So where is it now?”

“Could be nearby.” Sam answered, scanned the area with his flashlight and clenched the angel blade firmer in his hand.

Dean straightened back up, and cautiously searched between the trees for any signs of the hellhound. He’d just taken a few steps forward when a low growling sound caught his ears, making him freeze on the spot.

“Dean.” Sam warned from somewhere behind him, having clearly heard the sound too.

The familiar growling got louder and Dean suddenly felt cold. A shiver ran down his spine, goosebumps prickled all over his skin and his mouth felt dry. Dean realized something that was very unusually for him on a hunt; he realized he was scared. Wearing the hellhound glasses, he could clearly see the big, hellish animal with its glowing red eyes and sharp teeth as it approached him, and Dean recognized it. This was definitely the same hellhound that had killed him nine years ago when his one-year deal had been up – and, in a weird way, Dean knew it recognized him too.

Dean barely heard the warningly outburst from his brother as the hellhound charged forward, couldn’t as much as lift the angel blade with his now numb hand to defend himself, before the large creature collided with him. The impact swept him off his feet, knocking the air straight out of him as his back connected with the hard forest floor underneath him. Dean had also dropped his glasses in the process, and now couldn’t see the hellhound. However, he clearly felt the weight of it on his chest and smelled its rotten breath in his face.

Dean screamed as something sharp (claws, most likely) suddenly bore into his shoulder. However, before the wound became too deep, the hellhound abruptly let out a loud whine and the weight from it was released from Dean’s chest. He gasped and pressed a hand down on his injured shoulder – then looked up to see his infuriated younger brother in a protective stance next to him. Sam had obviously kicked the hellhound off Dean, and was now the only thing stopping the creature from turning Dean into its chew toy once again.

“Sam!” Dean exclaimed, grunted in pain as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, and looked around for the glasses he’d dropped.

“Stay where you are, Dean!” Sam called back without taking his eyes off the threat in front of him.

Dean finally found the hellhound glasses with his bloodied fingers and swiftly pulled them on – just in time to see the hellish beast jump forward and attack his brother. Sam stabbed the hellhound in its side with his blade, but he only managed to injure it, not kill it. The hellhound, now even more livid than ever with the blade sticking out of its side, went straight for Sam’s chest before his kid brother could react.

“NO!” Dean yelled at the same time as Sam’s anguished scream echoed between the trees.

Sam went down hard as the hellhound clawed at his chest, and Dean was on his feet in an instant. The anxiety he’d felt on seeing the hellhound again had vaporized the exact moment the creature had chosen Sam as its prey. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Dean raised his angel blade and brought it down hard on the hellhound’s back – relishing in the pained wail it let out and the blood that splattered onto his face as Dean slid the blade all the way along its spine in one swift movement.

“You may have killed me once,” Dean snarled in blinding rage. “but you’re not taking my brother!”

The hellhound let out a final rattling sound in the back of its throat and then went completely limp. Dean didn’t hesitate for a second. He dropped the blade and immediately pushed the dead creature off Sam – eyes widening in horror of the sight of the crimson welling up on Sam’s chest. His kid brother was luckily still alive and conscious, but practically gurgling on his own blood.

“Dear God…” Dean whispered, breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight of the large gashes. “I’m so sorry, Sammy. I’m so sorry.”

Sam gasped in pain as Dean pulled out a bandana and used it to put pressure on one of the large wounds. Shaky, bloodied fingers grabbed Dean’s jacket sleeve and held on tight. The action jarred his injured shoulder, but Dean bit back the pain and focused on his hurt brother.

“D-Dean.” Sam wheezed out but Dean shushed him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Dean soothed, gently brushing some hair behind Sam’s ear. “I’m gonna get you to a hospital. You’ll be just fine.”

Sam nodded – then whimpered slightly when Dean shred out of his jacket, bundled it up and pressed down on the bloodied wounds on Sam’s chest with it.

“Shh, take it easy.” Dean said in a soft voice.

Looking at his surroundings, Dean tried to figure out the best way to get Sam some medical help. He ruled out calling an ambulance. There was just no way of knowing how long it would take them to locate his and Sam’s position in the middle of a forest. Besides, an ambulance wouldn’t be able to maneuver between the trees anyway – which also ruled out fetching the car, and Dean wouldn’t leave his brother either way. Sam couldn’t walk with wounds this bad though, so Dean would have to carry him to the car and get him to a hospital before he bled out.

“Keep pressure on this.” Dean ordered his brother, and didn’t wait for a reply before he replaced his hands with Sam’s.

Dean got up on his feet and quickly looked for some large branches to use as a makeshift litter for Sam. Finding four large ones, he tied them together with some twine from his jacket pocket and brought it to his brother’s side. Dean’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the closed eyes on Sam’s way too pale face but, by the sound of Dean’s voice, Sam opened his pain-filled, glassy eyes and stared back at him.

“Sam.” Dean said and put a hand on Sam’s cheek. “No sleeping now. Stay with me!”

“Okay Dean.” Sam mumbled, and Dean smiled fondly as Sam leaned into his touch.

Dean then began the task of getting Sam moved onto the makeshift litter, apologizing every time Sam let out a pained sound. As soon as he had Sam settled, Dean grabbed hold of the branches right above Sam’s head, lifted and started dragging his brother along the forest floor.

Dean’s shoulder throbbed painfully by every step he took towards the car. He had to take several breaks along the way to catch his breath and ease the strain on his shoulder, but they were short as Sam’s life depended on getting help ASAP.

“I can’t…” Sam slurred out at one point.

“You can’t what, Sammy?” Dean asked in a voice hoarse and edgy from exertion.

“I can’t f-feel… my l-legs.” Sam mumbled, head rolling droopily from side to side on the stretcher with the dragging movement.

“It’s called shock.” Dean panted out. “Just focus on staying awake, okay? We’re almost by the car.”

Dean practically laughed in relief as the familiar sight of Baby showed up in the outskirts of the trees, and he dragged Sam the last bit of the way there with renewed energy. By the time they got there, Dean was drenched in sweat and light-headed with pain from his hurt shoulder. He carefully lowered his brother down though, before he sprinted to the trunk and returned with a first-aid kit. He removed his now blood-soaked jacket from Sam’s chest, wincing as the fabric stuck to parts of the wounds – knowing how painful it had to be for Sam.

Speaking of Sam, his little brother’s skin had turned clammy and greyish by now, and his eyes rolled aimless around in his head. He let out pained noises as Dean applied gauze on the long claw marks – the older brother constantly rambling comforting words in the process. He quickly wrapped some gauze around his own injured shoulder, grunted and clenched his jaw hard by the flare of pain that spread like fire with the applied pressure. As soon as he was satisfied with the first-aid, Dean opened up the passenger door of the car and maneuvered Sam inside as gently as possible. He laid his brother out across the bench seat, lifted and folded Sam’s long legs inside and slammed the door shut. Dean then threw the first-aid kit back into the trunk, grabbed a blanket and a bottle of water in the process and hurried to the driver’s side of the car.

Sliding behind the wheels, Dean was careful not to jar Sam too much as he lifted up his brother’s head and put it back down on his thigh. He spread the blanket over Sam’s form – then unscrewed the cap of the water and placed the bottle by Sam’s lips.

“Here. Drink.” Dean said.

Sam’s shaky fingers reached up and tried to grasp the bottle with no success, so Dean put his hand on top of Sam’s and helped steer the bottle while Sam took a sip of it.

“That’s it.” Dean encouraged, before taking the bottle away and sipping of it himself. “You good, Sammy?”

“Yeah.” Sam managed to breathe out.

“Good. That’s good, Sammy.” Dean said and gently patted his brother’s head. ”You’ll be fine.”

Comforted by the feeling of Sam’s warmth against his thigh, Dean turned on the car, made sure the heaters were turned all the way up and then drove as fast as he could towards the nearest hospital.

**_ SPN _**

Sam was seated on the edge of his hospital bed. He hissed softly as he slowly worked his arms into the sleeves of the shirt Dean had brought him, being careful not to pull too much at his stitches. Dean was pacing back and forth in the room with a restless energy – besides the fact that he looked like he hadn’t slept for days which, knowing Dean, he probably hadn’t.

Sam couldn’t remember much from the time after the hellhound had attacked him. He just remembered a whole lot of pain, and knew that Dean had managed to drag him to the car and had driven him to the nearest hospital - even though he’d been injured himself. Sam had lost a lot of blood by the time they’d reached the hospital. Almost too much blood. He’d been treated with blood transfusions and fluids for starters, and had received a countless number of stitches to close the long, deep gashes on his chest. The doctors said that Sam was very lucky his organs hadn’t been damaged when the “bear” (that was the cover story Dean had given them) had attacked him, and that he would have been dead if not for Dean’s knowledge in first-aid.

Sam knew his big brother didn’t feel like a savior in this moment though. He was mad – not at the hellhound that had hurt Sam but at himself for not killing it sooner. Sam had tried multiple times after he’d woken up in the hospital bed to assure Dean that what had happened wasn’t his fault, but Dean was as stubborn as he’d always been and wouldn’t listen. He too often beat himself up over things he’d had no control over – especially when Sam’s well-being was involved. And this time was definitely no exception.

“Dean, stop pacing.” Sam sighed while buttoning his shirt. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“I almost got you killed on that hunt.” Dean said with a shake of his head. “What was I thinking?”

“Dean…” Sam began when Dean cut him off.

“I almost got you killed, Sammy.” Dean emphasized. “What would I have done if you’d…”

Dean washed a hand down his face, and collapsed into the plastic chair he’d been using while Sam had been out. He looked extremely tired with the dark circles underneath his eyes and the days-old stubbles on his chin. Sam winced a little by the sight of it. He knew better than anyone what it felt like to be worrying sick about his brother which, undoubtingly, had been all Dean had been doing while Sam had been hospitalized.

“All I’m saying is that I should have killed that hellhound straight away, but I didn’t. I froze and you got hurt because of it.” Dean said.

“So did you.” Sam said, referring to Dean’s shoulder, and then continued before Dean could interrupt him. “Besides, I’m not dead. You killed that hellhound, Dean, and you saved me. That’s all that matters.”

Dean pulled a face but didn’t contradict Sam’s statement. Instead, he just remained quiet and adjusted the sling on his arm before rising from the chair again.

“You ready to head home?” Dean asked, clearly done discussing the matter any longer with the change of subject.

“Yeah.” Sam answered and struggled to get up on his feet. “I just need to put my jacket on.”

Dean reached out the hand that wasn’t currently resting in a sling, and Sam accepted the offered palm – letting Dean help him off the bed. Sam couldn’t stop the hiss that came over his lips when the vertical position pulled at his many stitches, and he saw the concerned look Dean sent him from the corner of his eyes.

“I’m okay.” Sam assured before reaching for his jacket, but his brother beat him to it.

“Arms.” Dean ordered and held up the jacket as a mother would do for her toddler.

“Dean, I can do it myself.” Sam protested.

“Shut up, and let me do this.” Dean dismissed. “Arms.”

Sam sighed and let his brother dress him – then walked side by side with said brother a moment later as the two of them headed outside to their waiting car. It was a slow task, considering Sam walked like an eighty-year-old, but Dean didn’t comment on it and Sam enjoyed the comfortable silence that settled between them.

By the time the Impala left the hospital parking lot, Sam was wrapped in a blanket and properly medicated on painkillers for the trip back to the bunker – having given in and allowed Dean to be as big of a mother hen as he wanted to be, just for today. Sam still wanted to talk about what had happened on the hellhound hunt; about how much it had affected the both of them, and wanted to make sure Dean let go of all the self-blame. He also needed to come clean to his brother about working with the British Men of Letters, but all that could wait until later. Right now, all that mattered was that they were both still alive – an outcome that had been so different nine years earlier when the hellhound had killed Dean and left Sam all alone in the world. So, despite an evil blast from the past and a hospital visit, Sam would count this hunt as a win any day. As long as they had each other, they could get through it all.

* * *

  **THE END**


End file.
